Precognition
by Laertena
Summary: Blaine can see the future. 12/13 update - revised parts 1-3 out of 5
1. Part 1 of 5

**12/13 revision **

First time it happens, Blaine is seven and he's dreaming. One minute his eyes are closed, breaths even, and sleeping soundly - and the next all he could smell is smoke, all he could hear is screaming, and all he could see is a blinding orange and yellow. He screams and cries, and suddenly his caretaker (who acts as his babysitter, his maid, and his stand-in mother) is rubbing soothing circles on his back, whispering _"It's just a dream, Blaine, just a dream, shh, baby, it's okay…"_

Two weeks later, a vengeful employee lights up a match and throws it to the kerosene-splashed wooden floor of his boss's family home. The fire that erupts awakens the entire street within half an hour, and Blaine watches ten houses down across the street of the blaze as firefighters attempt to salvage the burning house.

All he could smell is smoke, all he could hear is screaming, and all he could see is a blinding orange and yellow.

He doesn't dream for a long time.

Blaine is barely eight when he takes a nap one warm, Saturday afternoon on May. For the first time in months, he dreams. He sees a young boy, more or less his age, wearing black among a sea of adults wearing black. The boy has soft, brown hair and milky white skin and looking so _lost_; beside him stands a man, bald and near tears, gripping the boy's shoulder protectively. They're both – as everyone else is, actually – staring at a hole in the ground. They throw white flowers and say goodbye.

Blaine wakes up confused - only three days later does he watch a movie and finally understands what had been happening.

(He meets the boy just about eight years later. The boy – teen – still has that soft, brown hair and milky white skin, and still looking lost, but underneath all that Blaine sees _strength_.)

He keeps dreaming, but never tells anyone about it.

When Blaine is eleven-going-on-twelve, things start to change. For one, he stops looking at _girls_ and starts _looking_ at boys. There's an uncomfortable, sinking feeling in his stomach after every time he catches himself staring too long. But despite the uneasiness, all he could think about is how his heart would flutter and face would redden whenever his fourteen year old _guy_ neighbor would grin at him _just like that_. It doesn't take him long to find a name for it.

Secondly, the line keeping his dreams _in_ his dreams suddenly breaks, and he _sees_. He remembers being in alone in the kitchen that day, no one else at home except for his caretaker, before a loud crashing sound makes him jump out of his skin and for a moment he believes the house had been broken into. But when he makes his way to the living room, there's no one else but his mother and father. They're red-faced and furious at each other, and on the floor are the shattered remains of the vase mother _abhors_, mostly because it came from his father's own mother who hates her. Despite the fact that it's obvious that they're shouting, Blaine can't hear anything beyond his parents' muffled voices. He quietly retreats to his room, and blasts his radio out loud. He sings, waits for their argument to sizzle down, and wonders what's for dinner tonight.

(However, he _knows_ his mother is out with the other ladies from the country club, probably until eight in the evening, and his father is rarely home nowadays, opting to spend his hours running his blooming corporation.)

All too soon, Blaine is an eighth grader and everyone in his middle school knows he is gay. He's in that awkward stage of puberty where his voice had just gotten deeper yet his body is still small and scrawny. He ignores the looks other students would give him and the whispers and derogatory comments that would make its way to his ears, among other things. He barely has any friends, and those that acquaint themselves with him likes to turn their cheeks and pretend they don't know him when a particularly resentful jock throws his lunch all over the cafeteria floor or gives him swirlies in the boys' room. It hurts, but he does his best not to mind it. He knew what to expect from his peers. Blaine didn't even need his _sight_ to see it coming. (This is, after all, _Ohio_.)

He comes out to his parents the day "FAG" is written black and bold on his locker. His father, who is home for once, doesn't say anything but the hand he laid on his shoulder spoke volumes. (He's forgotten how gentle his touch is, and Blaine forgives him for not always being there. He understands.) His mother is nothing else but tight lipped and looks at everything but Blaine. That too, spoke volumes.

They send him off to bed, and he pretends he doesn't hear the sound of a vase shattering and his parents shouting because of him. He only allows himself to think how funny it is that his father, who was born and raised in Christian morals and the church, is the one who supports him while his mother, who denounced God at eighteen after the death of her younger cousin, is the one that refuses to have him as her son.

That night, he dreams of the brown haired boy coming out to his own father, and being accepted. He smiles in his sleep.

(The divorce is finalized less than two months later, and he never sees his mother again. But Blaine knows things would be okay, because his father's best friend's sister has loved him since forever, and everyone will be happier with them together. Blaine had already accepted her by the time his father introduces her as a potential new mother seven months later.)

The visions and dreams become just about a part of his everyday life by the time the summer before high school comes around. Most of it has nothing to do with him (an old man who runs a pawn shop will be robbed on three o'clock and shot, but he will live; a car accident on the highway will involve three cars, and a little girl will be left an orphan; someone's rabbit will die in two weeks), but he lets himself see them. Blaine doesn't know how to stop them, anyways.

He tells only one person, only because Uncle Harold is very superstitious, believes in the supernatural and stuff, and the least likely to laugh at him or regard his sight as nonsense. Instead, his uncle nods solemnly and hands him a pack of new tarot cards the following week. He tells Blaine about the responsibility of such power, and how no matter how much he would wish so, Blaine cannot always change the future, if ever.

The tarot cards became an outlet his sight needed to keep the "day visions" at bay and at low frequency. Blaine takes to them as a fish would to water, and his uncle grins at him amusedly. He would mostly do readings of himself, and he finds them very enlightening, if not vague.

Two weeks before Blaine is set to attend his first day as a high school freshman, Uncle Harold is to fly to London for a business conference. Blaine knows this, and two hours before his uncle's flight, he wakes up from a sinking feeling of his stomach. His alarm clock read 5:24 am in bright red numbers, and Blaine nearly trips over himself to shakily reach his cards. A hasty shuffle, asking if his uncle is fine, will be fine, make it to London safe and sound, and cards are laid.

He's a novice, so by the time he has interpreted the cards, his uncle has boarded his plane with his phone off. But he tries and tries and _tries_ to tell him.

His father finds him sobbing almost hysterically on his bed ten minutes after eight. Despite not knowing the reason for his distress, he pulls Blaine close into his arms for the first time in years and holds him for the longest time.

Hours later, a news anchorman tells all of Ohio about a plane heading for London crashing thirty minutes into the flight. No survivors. It was the same plane his uncle was in.

At the funeral, he says _"I'm sorry,"_ instead of _"Goodbye."_

He throws his cards into a shoe box, tapes the lid closed three times, and doesn't touch them again. Not for another few years.

(Blaine opens the box and uses the cards once more when he's seventeen and confused about the boy he once dreamt of. The cards are as vague as he remembers, but it's promising.)

His freshman year is hell on earth to Blaine. It is only been twelve days and four hours since he officially became a first year and he already has more or less five bruises from locker shoves and has gotten over a dozen homophobic notes taped to his locker door. Word travels fast about people, especially about being the only out-of-the-closet student in school. The upperclassmen are especially horrible.

Blaine's terrified.

His day visions make him vulnerable, he finds out. Just one moment's pause is all a jock needs to grab him and throw him into a dumpster or against the lockers. Once, he sees himself in darkness with two other people doing _something_ to him he's certain he doesn't like – and a moment later he is pulled back to reality, dragged into the janitor's closet by two seniors and violated in the dark.

By the time sixth period rolls around, practically everyone knows of the incident and most of them just say _"he deserved it,"_ and _"he wanted it."_ Blaine files a complaint to the school, but they tell him that there's nothing they could do without proof.

(At that point, Blaine thinks that the school deserves the shooting that will happen in two years, orchestrated by a spiteful sophomore who will be disregarded as Blaine was. But even if he did warn them, _there's nothing they could do without proof_, after all.)

He doesn't tell his father, who is happier than he has ever been since his corporation made it big and married Blaine's birthmother. Instead, Blaine smiles and says everything is okay.

It's not a lie, because Blaine knows everything _will_ be okay. At night he would dream of himself wearing a navy blue blazer with red trimming, flirting and singing with _the boy_ wearing the same uniform as he, in a fancy room decorated with Christmas ornaments. And when Blaine sings, his smile is always _real_.

So Blaine sucks it up, despite the nagging voice at the back of his mind warning him. (In hindsight, Blaine should've known better than to ignore his instincts. Past events should have taught him not to.) Things get worse.

He and an acquaintance attend the Sadie Hawkins dance together. They're cornered an hour into the dance and are beaten within an inch of their lives. Blaine wakes up on a hospital bed. His father pleads to tell him _what happened, who did this to him_. He keeps quiet.

(His acquaintance doesn't even look him in the eye anymore, much less say a single word to him. Soon, the others follow his footsteps.)

Then two weeks before Christmas break, he's knocked out cold while walking home from school. He wakes up feeling sore all over, and most definitely bruised – it's a familiar feeling. He drags himself home and goes to the bathroom to look for the first aid kit. And when he looks at the large mirror above his sink, he doesn't see his reflection. Almost as if he was watching television, he sees one, two, three figures donning familiar letterman jackets over a huddled form on the ground at night. They roll the body into the ditch and drive away hastily.

The body is him.

Blaine doesn't go to school the next day, nor the next, nor the following days before break. He tells his father all about the bullying and harassment at school and instead of letting his father sue the hell out of the administration, Blaine slips an informational printout of Dalton Academy for Boys, the words "zero tolerance bullying policy" highlighted and underlined clearly, in front of him as they talked in the kitchen. His father and stepmother waste no time on thinking. January comes, and Blaine is wearing a navy blue blazer with red trimming. He meets Wes and David, friends who couldn't care less about his sexuality, and _lives_.

For the first time, Blaine changes the future.


	2. Part 2 of 5

**12/13 revision**

Three weeks into attending Dalton, Blaine realizes that he had stopped seeing just the absolute and started sometimes seeing the possibilities. It's as if something was triggered inside of him, and instead of seeing the most possible _one_, he sees _multiple_ possible futures. Just one action done differently at any point makes time branch out and it's suddenly full of _what if_'s and _maybe_'s. It makes Blaine's head hurt because instead of one, he sees three or four or five different things almost simultaneously. It doesn't always happen, but it's often enough that after each time, Blaine experiences a horrible headache and becomes more or less snappy until he manages to go to sleep. (He's learning to control his temper during such times, because high emotions make him susceptible for _more_ visions. It's almost like a never ending cycle Blaine just wants to _stop_.)

Blaine doesn't want his sight to branch out like that. He doesn't want to know that no matter what he did, his new friend David will never live past the age thirty-five. He doesn't want to know the different ways his cousin could die, three years from today. He doesn't want to know that the only time his beloved stepmom will live through her future pregnancy is if his _unborn_ baby sister _dies_.

He doesn't think he's ready for such responsibility. (He never was in the first place.) And for the first time, his late uncle's warnings suddenly made sense. The weights on his shoulders have never felt heavier.

He gets an empty dorm room because of his sudden transfer. This is a luxury Blaine appreciates, and not because of reasons Wes and David could think of, but because it would be hard to explain to a roommate just why he would, more often than not, wake up at some ungodly hour, distressed and out of breath.

(When he comes home at the end of his first month at Dalton, Blaine tells his father that he's been having nightmares and can't sleep most nights. A doctor's appointment is made, sleeping pills are prescribed, and Blaine takes them in hopes of blocking at least some of the dreams. They never work.)

The problem about Dalton is that it's hard to keep secrets. The boarders, in particular, are tight-knit with their dorm mates and things just happen go around. He had barely uttered a word of his sexuality and the reasons of his transfer, yet everyone knew before _he_ knew everyone knew.

And most of the guys were fine with it. (He doesn't know everyone in school. Not yet.) The two boys he shares a bathroom with (it's two dorm rooms to one bathroom, he learns) are quick to assure him that they don't mind, and if anyone starts giving him trouble, to just say the word and Blaine will see that zero tolerance policy enacted faster than he could say "_Thank you._" Wes and David, in particular, have set themselves to be Blaine's new best friends and taken him under their wing. They introduce him to other people and help him get settled into the Dalton boarder life, among other things. Later, Blaine is invited to audition for the Warblers (after an embarrassing incident that lead to one of his bathroom mates overhearing him singing in the shower and telling the Warbler council about his _"absolutely wonderful, melodic, definitely-perfect-for-solos voice"_ – if only they knew) and gets in. Wes and David, who are Warblers themselves, help him get settled into that too.

All in all, everyone is genuinely nice and likes him.

Of course, that makes it hard for him to become unnoticed. More than once, he'd stop in the middle of the hallway, staring into nothing as another day vision takes hold in front of his eyes. (He hasn't quite mastered the art of 'keep walking like everything is normal.') After every time, Wes or David or some other boy would glance at him worriedly and curiously. He pretends nothing happened, and mostly jokes about how he would sometimes just blank out like that. They accept it, but that doesn't necessarily mean they believe it.

The increasing frequency of his day visions reminds him of when he used to read tarot cards, and how that had helped lessen the visions. Blaine supposed that using his sight on another medium would redirect the pent up energy that his day visions use.

So he drinks tea.

Tasseography was something he had come across in the internet when he was trying to learn more about his ability. (The most important question on his mind then was how and why. He never got a concrete answer, and doesn't expect to anytime soon.) Soon, it becomes part of his daily ritual. Drinking a cup of tea made with leaves not in a bag and in a nondescript white tea cup and then _reading_ them every breakfast, lunch, and dinner is soothing to Blaine. He doesn't need a dictionary or symbols book and just lets intuition make him _see_. If Wes or David found him staring at his cup intently during mealtimes weird, they never mentioned it. Blaine appreciates that.

(After a few months, Blaine extends his trust in them and shows them the reason he drinks tea so often and why he stares at the leaves so intently. He hesitantly implies that there's something more to the reason of his practice, and they tell him that they've somewhat suspected it for a while, and doesn't think of him any differently. Blaine knew then and there that he made the right decision in letting them in.)

No matter what he did though, Blaine will never get rid of _that feeling_ when something is about to go wrong. His stomach would suddenly churn, a lump on his throat would form, and Blaine's eyes would scan everyone in the vicinity until time would stop for a second and his mind would whisper _it's him_.

At first, whenever Blaine would stop them and tell them something vague like _"Please wait five minutes after six before leaving campus today"_ or _"Maybe you should sit out P.E. tomorrow,"_ the students would mostly do what he asks them to just to merely humor him. Blaine knows that and doesn't mind – because all that mattered was what danger he saw was prevented. He ignores some of the pitying looks the upperclassmen give him and the amused thanks he gets from his peers. When asked why in regards to his warnings, he smiles shakily and says "I just have a bad feeling about it…"

(Chris from third year would never know had he left campus at 5:50-6:00 like he originally planned, he would have had a head-on collision with a family in a SUV. He would survive, but the family's two youngest children won't, and the guilt and grief would ruin him. However, Alfred, a senior, quietly regrets not sitting out, now that he has a leg injury from P.E. He was Dalton's star quarterback and had plans to play for OSU, but those dreams where shot now that he won't be able to play football ever again.)

The students – the Warblers, at least – start to take him _really_ seriously after Valentine's.

The Warblers were asked to sing Valentine's Day songs for a nursing home in the almost-outskirts of downtown Westerville. The day of the performance, Blaine wakes up feeling bile at the back of his throat. He climbs with half the Warblers in one of two school vans, anyways, and doesn't say anything. The two vehicles leave the campus together, and the one Blaine is in takes the lead. They're ten minutes away from their destination when the feeling gets worse.

Blaine's half of the Warblers is still in front, and to the right beside them is a red Honda Pilot full of college aged teens. They're both going at the same speed, it seems, and two minutes before a fresh green stoplight, Blaine _sees_.

"STOP THE VAN!" He shoots up almost frantically from his seat to grab the driver and grips him tightly. "STOP IT RIGHT NOW!"

Mostly out of surprise, the driver abruptly stops a dozen or so meters in front of the stoplights. It doesn't take longer than a few seconds before the screeching of tires is heard as other Dalton van hits their bumper, making them all lurch forward and bump each other. There are exclamations of "What the fuck!" and "Shit!" and "Blaine, Blaine, are you okay?" but Blaine ignores them.

Blaine is shaking, near tears, saying "Oh, God, too close, _too close, oh my God_," and staring at the road in front of them as the red Honda continues on to cross the intersection—

The Warblers immediately throw away any thoughts of reprimanding Blaine and just _pale_ when they all see an eighteen-wheeler run a red light and T-bone the Honda. The red car doesn't stand a chance, and later, when things have calmed down, they'll see it as nothing more than a crumpled piece of metal with blood stained glass shattered around it.

Blaine scrambles over the other students to exit the car and he barely makes it to the curb before throwing up. A moment later, Wes goes to hold a hysteric Blaine, rubbing his back soothingly and whispering "_it's okay, it's okay now._" And within minutes, all the Warblers are standing on the sidewalk, holding onto one another as one of their drivers call 911 to report the wreck, knowing that car could have – _would_ have – been _them_.

They never do go sing for the nursing home. Instead, they go back to Dalton in silence and swear never to talk about that incident ever again.

The following day, Blaine reads the newspaper article about the car accident. In the red car, there was only one who barely survived. The survivor was sitting in the exact middle of their car, sitting in between two friends, the driver and front passenger to her upper left and right. Behind her were three others. That made eight people in the car.

The Warbler van he was in had eight people, including himself. He was the one sitting in the middle of everyone.

(Later that night, he searches his school on Google. There's a two-week old article about a freshman being beaten and left for dead. The assailants are three very familiar upperclassmen wearing letterman jackets. A picture of where the body was found is attached to the article, and it was, without a doubt, the same ditch he saw himself lying dead in not so long ago.

A few more searches later, and he finds out about an accident in Worthington, the same Friday evening he warned Chris about going home earlier than five minutes after six. A high school student was driving home from school when he and a family in a SUV were suddenly involved in a head-on collision. The student lives, but the two young children in the SUV do not.

Blaine knows they're not coincidences.) 

He repeats his freshman year. The credits from his old school weren't enough for Dalton's rigorous curriculum, and as he pulled out before midterms, he technically didn't finish his first freshman semester. Summer school wouldn't have been enough to make up for it.

Entering the new school year, Blaine is a new person. He's a lot better now, despite the weight still hanging on his shoulders. Tea continues to help, and he's reading on Palmistry nowadays. He's become less susceptible to high emotions, having learned to detach himself when it becomes too much. (It's not the best way to cope, but he doesn't know what else to do.) Most importantly, he's _happier_.

He becomes good acquaintances with his new, sophomore roommate. They get along well enough, and Sam doesn't seem to mind that he's gay or that he'd wake up in the middle of the night sometimes. Sam also respects Blaine's personal… quirks, and he respects Sam's, despite its glaring differences (while Blaine had grown an extensive tea and "seeing the future" book selection over the summer, Sam is a complete geek at heart with little figurines and Sci-Fi books filling up his shelves).

Blaine also starts seeing more of the brown haired boy he's been seeing in his dreams since he was a child. Sometimes they're far from happy instances (too many dumpster tosses, slushie facials, and locker shoves), and sometimes they're quite amusing (teaching a football team how to dance a Beyonce number, really?). Blaine feels like a creeper sometimes (he doesn't even know his name!), but there must be a reason as to why he sees that boy in his visions so often. Not to mention, Blaine has a very good feeling about him.

(He looks forward to his "sophomore" year now, never mind the higher levels of academic and Warbler stress that school year would bring. But he's not counting, not yet, because there is still _something_ missing.)

Of course, nothing lasts long, not even happiness. He comes home one weekend, only to find his father and stepmom giddy with good news. It's not necessarily a bad thing, because their happiness means the world to Blaine even if his world starts falling apart.

"I'm pregnant." She's beaming, and Blaine has to force a grin on his face despite feeling his heart drop down his chest.

_Good_ news. Yeah, right.

That night, he dreams of a blond haired cheerleader telling who he assumed was her boyfriend the same words he heard just hours before. Only, Blaine knows she'll be losing her child in a completely different manner.

The Warblers place second in Sectionals to Vocal Adrenaline. Despite Flint's great vocals and the Warbler's tight harmonization, they stood no chance against Jesse St. James and his peers' explosive performance. It was a disappointment, but next year they'll be ready and they'll take them down.

On his way to the Dalton vans, he bumps into the lead vocalist himself. Jesse barely gives him a glance, before Blaine (feeling more courageous than usual) speaks up nonchalantly.

"Congratulations on winning. Vocal Adrenaline's performance was a real show." He smiles, just to disarm the older teen a little.

"Of course," Jesse raises an eyebrow. "It is a _show_ choir competition, after all."

Blaine shrugs, and turns to walk off when stops on his tracks for a minute. "You know," He glances back. "Some people are stronger than they look." And walks away.

(In a few months, he'll hear about how Jesse St. James infiltrated McKinley's New Directions and broke their female lead's heart. But despite that, New Directions will still _sing_ and try their best at Regionals, even if their best won't be good enough. Because all that matters is that they've proven themselves to be more than _just some_ show choir.)

For Christmas, his father gives him the pocket watch that has been in his family for generations. The eldest son always inherits it, and his father tells him that no matter what, new baby or no, that Blaine will _always_ be _his_ son.

He opens up to see the watch's seconds hand ticking, ticking, _ticking_ – time goes on. Will keep going on, and nothing could ever change that.

He cries, and finally starts counting.

He declines Wes' invitation to go watch Regionals with some of the other Warblers. Instead, he goes home. And he's there for his six month-pregnant stepmom when she collapses in the middle of the hallway and needs an ambulance to bring her to the hospital. (His father is working late that night, but he'll soon drop everything just to be by her side. It doesn't take him more than an hour.)

The final prognosis is, "We can only save one. It's either your wife or your daughter. I'm sorry."

His father is shaken, and Blaine has never seen him so distraught. He thinks it's a cruel thing to make someone choose between the love of his life and someone that holds part of him.

Finally, Blaine says, "I don't want to lose her."

He doesn't elaborate who, but right then and there, his father makes a decision.

They will leave two days later still as a family of three. But in their hearts will always lay their unborn fourth, baby Beth.

(In the same hospital, five rooms down, Shelby Corcoran holds her new adopted daughter with a teary smile and says, "_Hello, Beth._")

Blaine copes. The rest of the school year passes by quietly. He continues to count.

He is sad to learn that Sam won't be coming back next year, but Dalton tuition is too expensive for more than a year's worth of it for his family and it had always been a temporary arrangement until his parents found a house, anyways.

"They're debating between this house at Lima and the one at Greenville. I think they're waiting for me to make a choice or something." He tells Blaine as he frowns at his own hair. "I don't mind either, really, because I'll be going to a public school no matter what. Do you think my hair's boring?"

"I say go for Lima." Blaine grins. "And not really, but I think blond would suit you, personally. Just dunk it in lemon juice and there you have it."

Sam looks back at him curiously. "You think so? Why? Why Lima, I mean."

Blaine looks up from his teacup and shrugs. "I just have a good feeling about it."

(The next time Blaine sees Sam is during Sectionals with McKinley's glee club, New Directions. He almost doesn't recognize him with the blond hair, but when he does Blaine laughs and greets him like an old friend, teasing him about him getting a pretty girlfriend and actually taking Blaine seriously on that lemon juice comment, while he was at it.)

It's not until August does Blaine finally learn _the dream boy_'s name. (And doesn't calling him that sound a little bit cliché and more than cheesy?) The sound of it rolls off his tongue so easily, and somehow by just saying it, Blaine already _knows_ he's special.

(He'll realize later that day that it's the first time he's ever forgotten the contents of his dream. The only thing he could recall is the name that goes with the face he's been seeing for years. He couldn't care any less.)

A few months later, Blaine idly suggests to Wes at breakfast that they sing _Teenage Dream_ for their impromptu performance that day. Wes looks at him, but merely says "If you think it's best…" before spreading the word through text.

(Sometimes Blaine wishes Wes wouldn't trust his word on things so much, but this time he's glad he does.)

Blaine keeps track of time with his pocket watch, and paces himself to be at the bottom of the staircase the exact minute he knows the boy will be (even though he knows said boy is a teenager now, he can't help but refer to him as such). He could already see him right ahead of him, and Blaine lightly jogs down to be right in front of him.

"Excuse me."

And Blaine turns around to meet the face of a nervous brunette. It's the same face he's been waiting to meet for a long time now.

"Hi, can I ask you a question? I'm new here."

Blaine smiles and holds up a hand. "My name is Blaine."

The younger teen looks pleasantly shocked for a moment, before taking Blaine's hand with his own to shake it. The feeling was warm.

"Kurt." A smile.

It took almost all of his willpower not to say, "_I know._"


	3. Part 3 of 5

**12/13 revision**

Blaine deliberately takes one of the longer routes to the senior commons. It's not that he wanted to hold Kurt's hand a little longer, but it was more of that he wanted to show off Dalton a little bit. (Really.) And when he reaches to fix the lapel that doesn't need fixing at all, it's just to show that there are some people who won't mind casually touching him.

He _sings_ to Kurt. Earnestly does, because Kurt has been in Blaine's dream for as long as he remembers having his sight. The song works to paint Dalton in an appealing light, and he could see Kurt looking around the commons as if he couldn't believe the cheering boys were for _real_.

The song ends, and the smile Kurt puts on is brilliant and lights up the room.

When Wes and David approach him, Blaine barely lets them get a word out before saying, "Why don't we take our guest and get some lattes?"

So they do. And so far his two friends are amused at Kurt, if their expressions were anything to go by. Blaine takes a sip of his own drink, and makes a rather presumptuous assumption. "Which made me think that spying on us wasn't the real reason you came," He says, and nods encouragingly.

Blaine couldn't help a lighthearted laugh escape his throat when Kurt voiced his question. (Out of all the things the McKinley student could have asked, he actually went for the "Are you guys all gay?" one. Not that he could blame him, considering what he's going through nowadays.) But the look on Kurt's face makes Blaine quickly try to amend the situation. "No. I mean, _I_ am, but these two have girlfriends."

He watches Kurt's face start to crumble when David and Wes tell him a little of the zero tolerance policy, and he _understands_.

"Would you guys excuse us?"

The two shoot a curious look at Blaine, and then back at Kurt, and they take their cue to leave. Blaine lets Kurt compose himself before saying another word. "I take it you're having trouble at school." (In reality, he _knows_ Kurt _is_ having trouble at school. And will continue to do so unless he gets out of McKinley.)

The younger teen gives him a summary of how things have been in his school. Blaine is completely empathic and gives him a truthful "I know how you feel," (He almost stopped at 'know' but caught himself just in time.) and tells him a watered down version of his situation before Dalton.

At this point, he had two options as to what advice to give Kurt: the good one or the bad one. He's been thinking about it, even though he really shouldn't even consider anything other than the 'good one.' But it was the decision that could bring or take Kurt to or away from Dalton.

What he says next are like word vomit – he can't stop. Blaine goes on about how Kurt should confront his closeted bully and Blaine _genuinely_ was just looking out for Kurt's best interests in telling him this. He twists the truth a bit, about how he regrets ever running away. (And he _does_, but only because someone else died in his place as a result of his self-preservation. Bringing that fate to the poor boy was the one thing he regrets about transferring away.)

They separate after Blaine convinces him to exchange numbers. The next morning, the first thing he does is text '_Courage. –Blaine_' to Kurt.

When Kurt texts back that afternoon with '_Courage backfired_,' and calls to distraughtly tell him about how Karofsky kissed him, a lump forms in Blaine's throat. It's guilt.

(He spends the rest of the night trying to tell himself that the advice he gave him was what was best.

Even though he _knew_ it was the bad one.)

Blaine recognizes McKinley's walls and halls. How could he not, having had so many dreams and visions about the place? It's a bit strange actually being there in person after being a mere distant observer for so many years, and the stares the other students are giving him are more than a little bit unnerving (he hadn't had time to change out of his Dalton uniform before heading off to Lima), but Blaine manages.

Kurt doesn't look too well, and Blaine mentally winces, knowing that, indirectly or no, he was partly responsible for what happened. But Kurt manages to give Blaine a smile anyways, and he tries his best to tell him that everything will be okay, _soon_.

He lets intuition lead him to where Karofsky should be at that moment, and he didn't need Kurt's whisper of "_There he is_," to recognize the jock.

Blaine knows that while it absolutely does not give him an excuse his behavior, Karofsky's sexual crisis (for a lack of better term) could only end between one of two ways. So he tries to be somewhat encouraging, but when Karofsky pushes him back to the chain link fence, Blaine knows it'll be a long battle.

"—STOP THIS!"

Blaine stares at Karofsky, but isn't _looking_ at him (Karofsky is evidently unnerved by it, with the way he refuses to meet Blaine's eyes). Instead, he sees the jock as a man, still living in denial, and unhappy. He means it when he says, "Well, he's not coming out anytime soon."

Kurt confesses that he has never been kissed, "At least one that counted." Blaine knows he could kiss him right then and there and Kurt would barely mind at all, but he knows it will set their relationship to end in an eventual train wreck in such a short while. (It's too soon – while Blaine has known of Kurt for years, Kurt has known of Blaine for barely three days.) Instead, Blaine bites his lip and invites Kurt for lunch.

(Blaine barely makes it back to Dalton on time for Warbler practice, and he's definitely going to hear from his AP US History teacher sometime soon and will most likely get restricted from leaving campus for a week or two, but he can't bring himself to care. Kurt's worth it.)

They keep in contact regularly. Once, Blaine goes out to dinner with Kurt and Mercedes. There, he just lets his usually composed self shed off a bit and he could feel the buzz in his head as he talks about marriage, Vogue covers (which he _might_ have cheated on a bit just to know what Kurt was going to say), the Buckeyes, and Patti LuPone's new book (which he hasn't actually read, _yet_).

(He couldn't help but mentally wince whenever Kurt casually disregards Mercedes' obvious feelings on being like a third-wheel, however. Blaine tries to get her into the conversation, but the subject quickly changes and he wants to tell Kurt, "_Don't alienate her like this_.")

He gets news about the wedding through an enthusiastic phone call, one he replies with almost the same level of cheer. (Carole will be a good mother-figure to Kurt, one that he needs and will always need. And Finn, despite his… flaws, means well. They'll be a happy family.) Not a few days after that call, another one is made telling Blaine of Karofsky's expulsion. This one, Blaine fakes the smile a bit, knowing that Kurt's spirits will be crushed soon enough.

Blaine finds that is right of course, when he hangs up from Kurt's latest phone call. Karofsky's going back to McKinley, and Kurt is going to Dalton.

Everything was happening just like he saw it.

With Sectionals looming around the corner, Blaine has to fight Wes to get Kurt in the Warblers.

"It's now or _never_," He says. "And he'll be good for the team, I _promise_."

Wes doesn't look too happy with the decision, but gives Blaine the benefit of doubt by agreeing. That doesn't stop his friend on being a little hard on Kurt during the Warbler's meeting, however.

When Kurt is handed Pavarotti, Blaine is handing him more than just a bird. (But he couldn't help but have to fight the grin from forming on his face at the _awful_ joke Kurt makes. Most of the Warblers are less than amused.) When Kurt says, "Council?" Blaine is ready to clarify. When Kurt starts to make his suggestion, Blaine keeps a friendly face for Kurt as his expression falls, hearing the council basically shoot his idea down.

While the Warbler meeting draws to a close, Blaine stays behind while the others trickle out of the room. Kurt glances at him briefly, and is one of the first to leave. Soon, it's just him, David, and Wes, and he takes a deep breath before moving towards them.

"What do you think?" He asks, a little nervously.

Wes shoots him a sharp look and he's frowning – Blaine already knows what is coming. "Are you _sure_ this isn't an extensive plot to spy us? It's not that I don't trust your judgment, but I just find it a bit suspicious of him to suddenly transfer so soon after his little escapade a few weeks ago and then joining the Warblers."

He nods resolutely. "_Absolutely_." He doesn't mention that worst comes to worst, Kurt will transfer a week before Regionals, making them adjust their routine extensively. But never give away their set list. "He's still going to be in contact with his old glee club, but they're his friends. Even so, after what Vocal Adrenaline did to them last year, I highly doubt they would pull something like that."

The two council members share a look with each other before nodding in acceptance. "Alright," Wes says. "But we'll be keeping an eye on him. Is there anything else?"

Blaine bites his lip and his fingers pick on his blazer's trimming. "Well, I was thinking." He starts slowly. "Kurt looked a bit… taken aback on how things went today. He hasn't really adjusted to Dalton yet, obviously. So, what he needs is something to make him feel welcome and solo auditions are coming up…"

"_Blaine_," David cuts in, eyebrows raised. "Are you suggesting we let him audition for a _solo_?"

He nods almost jerkily in response. "Of course, he doesn't need to actually get the solo – that won't go well in Sectionals, especially since he's so new to the whole a capella dynamic – but… Just one audition."

Wes sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, and frowns. "I don't think we should do that. We already let him in _without_ an audition, and the others are already wondering. As of now they think it was a private thing, but all Kurt needs to do is to say a word and _then_ we'll have some problems." He gives Blaine with a regretful look, and Blaine knows the rejection is about to come if he doesn't do anything soon.

"Have you three decided on our set list for Sectionals yet?" He blurts out and tries to look nonchalant about it. (But Blaine knows what he's about to do goes against his personal morals on using his… 'gift,' and he can't help but feel one day it will bite him back.)

"Like we said in the meeting, we're contemplating among what we've arranged the past few months. Our secondary song is going to depend on who wins the solo auditions, but for the one you're singing we're on the fence on. _Teenage Dream_ is out, though, since we sang it for an impromptu performance – which, may I remind you, was spied on." The look on Wes' face shows that he doesn't like where this was going, but he's indulging him anyways. "It's between _Cooler Than Me_, _Firework_, _Breakeven_, and _Hey Soul Sister_."

"We're leaning towards _Breakeven_, but we'll tell you soon enough—"

Blaine shakes his head. "No, that one won't work." He says with a firm expression. "_Hey Soul Sister_ is _definitely_ our best bet. I'm very _sure_." The way he stresses choice words are heavy implications that neither would miss, especially given that they were aware of his gift. He doesn't flinch when his friend abruptly stands up and slams his hands on the table.

"_Blaine_," Wes hisses. "Are you saying-? _Jesus_, Blaine. We _know_ you don't like using _that_ for the Warblers unless absolutely necessary! Not that we don't appreciate the tip, but… And you didn't need to, just for _him_."

And that was true. Blaine couldn't help but think that counted as cheating, but he _needed_ Kurt to audition. He needs him to feel accepted (_needs_ him to _stay_ at Dalton), and he knows Kurt rarely even got opportunities like this back at McKinley.

"Just one audition. And that's all I'll ask of you, _I promise_." Blaine says.

And Wes sighs, slumping back on his seat. David looks back and forth between his two friends before standing up to lay a hand on Blaine's shoulder.

"Seeing as it means so much to you, alright. One audition, but no promises on him even making it to the second round." When Wes looked like he was about to protest, David silences him with a look. "Just know that we're not doing it for him, we're doing it for _you_."

"You're our friend," Wes adds with a fond, albeit exasperated, smile on his face. (It makes Blaine feel a painful twinge of guilt. What right did he have to take advantage of his friends like this?) "And we might not understand well your dire need to do things sometimes, but we trust you."

"_Thank you_." Blaine says fervently, pulling each of them into a hug. (He doesn't know what he did to even deserve the both of them as friends. But whatever it was, he's glad they are.)

Before Blaine manages out the door, Wes calls out to him. "Just wondering, Blaine. Why are you so invested in this Kurt kid?"

He pauses, not knowing how to explain. "It's complicated," He says truthfully. "But I just feel… that there's a reason why I met him. There's this feeling. And it's good." And Wes and David are treated to the brightest smile Blaine has ever put on since forever. "_It's good_."

Blaine rushes to catch up with Kurt, makes up some _bullshit_ about tradition (though after being introduced to Pavarotti, it sounds plausible), and straight up tells him that he's being allowed to audition for a solo. He tells him to "_Sing something good_," and mentally hopes that Kurt would go with instinct and sing the first song he thinks of.

Which means not _Don't Cry for Me Argentina_. As beautiful and breathtaking Kurt sounds, the song is too over the top for the Warblers' tastes. At least _My Heart Will Go On_ would have garnered Kurt some plus points from Wes (who, though he would never admit it, has a very profound appreciation for _Titanic_) and was doable for a Warbler-ized acapella arrangement.

Still, Kurt's singing is _wonderful_. _He_ is wonderful, and as he sings the lines "…_and I chose freedom,"_ Blaine could _see_ the younger boy singing this song in front of an awestruck crowd for the _Grammy Awards_ years from now. And Blaine smiles.

"He's definitely good," David comments when the three solo auditions are done. Kurt, Nick, and Jeff are outside waiting for the decision while the other Warblers were mingling at the other side of the room. Blaine is with the three council members, as their club's lead soloist and honorary council member, though he does not say much. (He was elected at first, but he refused the position, saying that he was already their lead and that officially, he's not a junior – the minimal grade level required for a council member – as an excuse. In actuality, it's because he doesn't trust himself to be in a _true_ position of decision making.)

"We haven't had a countertenor since our freshman year, have we?" Thad, their third council member (meaning, the one who took Blaine's place), says.

Wes nods, albeit reluctantly. "Perhaps he _is_ a good addition to the team. As for his solo audition, _however_…"

Blaine watches the other two shake their heads, and he expected that. So he steels himself to be the one to break the news, and congratulates Nick and Jeff in making it to the next round.

"Any sage advice?" Kurt asks, trying not to look disappointed and somewhat failing.

The words come out wrong when he says, "Don't try so hard next time." And when he says "You'll fit in soon enough_, I promise_," Blaine wonders.

How many promises is he going to make before breaking all of them?


	4. Important Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

Hello! I'm sorry for the long wait before hearing for me again, but I'm just here to reassure you that **I have not abandoned this story.**

**As of 11/4/11, Precognition is being revised. **Reuploading of revised chapters will begin sometime this month.

I want to make it more canon compliant, and therefore some changes will be implemented that would actually solve some plot issues I've been having that prevented me from finishing part 3b. Among these are the ages and Kurt's plans after high school revealed in season 3. (Of course, at a point, all the episodes following the completion of this story will be jossed.)

All of you who have had this story in their watchlist have been very patient, and I will do my best not to disappoint you.

Thank you very much, and I appreciate all the reviews this story has received.

Ta!


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